How to Lose a Malfoy in Ten Days
by RiddikulusRaven
Summary: Hermione Granger has had enough of Draco Malfoy's cocky and reckless behavior. He's the Head Boy, and he ought to be acting like it. As the Head Girl, it is her job to take him down a notch or two. Draco, however, is more than happy to continue his current ways. He bets Blaise that he can get any girl to fall in love with him. But the girl he must woo is Hermione, his sworn enemy.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello, dear readers. I was struck by this plot bunny a while back, and it wouldn't leave me alone. I simply had to write it. For those of you unfamiliar with the movie, this story is loosely based on How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. I highly recommend it.

For the purposes of this story, book 7 basically didn't happen. Harry and Dumbledore managed to destroy all of the Horcruxes in HBP, but Dumbledore still died. The Battle of Hogwarts still happened, but it was in July between their 6th and 7th years. Harry defeated Voldemort, most of the Death Eaters were rounded up and arrested, and Snape was still killed for the Elder Wand. And because all of this happened when it did, Hogwarts was able to rebuild (yay magic!) and start the school year on time. Hermione and Draco are Head Boy and Girl. Additionally, these two will probably behave OOC throughout the story. It's the nature of the thing, you see.

General thing to be aware of: if you have seen the movie, then you will recognize scenes throughout this story that mirror scenes in the movie. Also, I don't own the movie, nor anything HP related. It's a shame, that.

Now, without further ado, I present to you:

* * *

How to Lose a Malfoy in Ten Days

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

"Watch where you're going, Potty!" Draco snapped upon ramming his shoulder into the aforementioned boy's arm. Crabbe and Goyle, who were standing behind him as usual, cracked their knuckles menacingly.

"Me?" Potter exclaimed incredulously. "You ran into me, Ferret!"

Draco scoffed. "Please. As if I would purposefully infect myself with your Gryffindor germs."

"I hate you, Malfoy."

"The feeling is mutual, I assure you."

"Just stay away from me."

Draco sneered. "Or maybe _you_ should stay away from _me_. You and your stupid friends are always sticking your noses where they don't belong. Especially the Mudblood." He said this last part as he looked directly at Hermione Granger.

Potter and Weasley both whipped their wands out of their pockets.

"Don't. Call. Her. That," Weasley hissed.

"Ron, don't. It's what Malfoy wants," Granger interjected as she physically lowered the weasel's wand. "Put your wand away, Harry."

Draco simply raised an eyebrow. "You two are so whipped that you'll take orders from a stick-up-her-arse prude. Pathetic."

"Shut it Malfoy!" Potter snapped. "At least we have friends. All you have are slaves."

"Yeah!" Weasley echoed stupidly.

"Come on, he's not worth it," Granger said. She grabbed Potter and Weasley by an arm each and began dragging them down the hall. "Let's just go."

"Yeah, do as your little princess says and piss off," Draco yelled after them, roaring with laughter. "See what I did there? Potty joke."

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed loudly. Draco smirked in satisfaction at a joke well told. Potter just scowled at him. Eh, it was his loss that he couldn't appreciate a good joke.

Potter snarled at him once more, then allowed Granger to drag him off down the corridor with Weasley. Draco shrugged nonchalantly and led his two cronies to the Slytherin common room. He slouched onto a sofa in front of the fireplace, right next to his best friend Blaise Zabini.

"Crabbe, Goyle, bugger off," he instructed them. The two burly boys shrugged and slunk to their dormitories.

"Malfoy."

"Zabini."

Blaise turned to him. "I'm bored."

"Wanna get drunk?" Draco suggested.

"On what?" Blaise rolled his eyes. "Butterbeer isn't even all that alcoholic."

Draco smirked. "I didn't say it would be Butterbeer, did I?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow in question.

"Raided my father's liquor cabinet over Christmas break," Draco said imperiously. "How's Firewhisky sound?"

"Excellent."

Draco reached into his bag and pulled out the nearly full bottle. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured two shot glasses out of thin air. He filled one to the brim and handed it to Blaise, then filled his own.

"Cheers," Blaise murmured.

He tapped his glass against Blaise's, then downed the drink in one go.

"What are we doing with our lives?" Blaise asked pensively as Draco refilled their glasses.

Draco gave him a sideways look. "We're seventeen. Who cares?"

His friend shrugged. "Okay, so we're seventeen," he said, gulping down his second shot of Firewhisky. "Then why aren't we out there shagging every girl that'll have us?"

"I could have any girl I want," Draco protested. "She'd be in my bed with just a crook of my finger."

Blaise snorted. "I'm not touching that," he snickered.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Zabini."

"You asked anyone to the Easter Ball yet?"

"What's with all this talk of love?" Draco groaned. "Why not talk about Quidditch or even—Salazar forbid—the latest History of Magic essay? Even that topic would be more tolerable."

"Shut up and give me more whiskey," Blaise demanded.

Draco obliged with another roll of his eyes and downed his own third shot.

Blaise swayed in his seat a little as he said, "Truth or dare?"

"What?" Draco asked him incredulously.

"Aw, c'mon," his friend whined. "I'm bored. Indulge me for a bit, would you?"

"Fine. Truth." Draco slouched deeper into his seat.

"Er . . . are the rumors true?"

"What rumors?"

"The Slytherin Sex God ones."

Draco felt his face redden, and was suddenly glad the lighting was so dim in the common room. "Oh. Those rumors. I thought you were the one that started them."

"Then they're not true?" Blaise asked smugly.

"Shut up! I didn't say that!"

"You didn't say they were true either," he pointed out.

"Salazar, Zabini. Do you really need to know?"

"We're best mates, Malfoy. According to Parkinson, blokes talk about their sexual prowess or whatever."

"Parkinson's an idiot," Draco groused. "You can't trust anything she says."

"True enough. But I still want to know."

Draco sighed dramatically. "Merlin, Blaise. You're a git, you know that?"

"A git and proud," he quipped.

"If I tell you, then you have to answer the same," Draco finally bargained.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "That's not how this game works."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose before pouring himself another shot of Firewhisky. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm not a man-whore, if that's what you're asking," he muttered without opening his eyes. "But I'm not a virgin, either. Happy?"

Blaise clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Not really, no. But I'll take what I can get. Your turn."

"Truth or dare," Draco asked after chugging his shot of whiskey.

"Dare, obviously," Blaise said with a wicked smirk.

"Zabini, this is stupid," Draco complained.

"Drink some more Firewhisky. It gets funner the more drunk you are," he explained with pseudo-patience.

"Sure it does."

"No, really."

"Fine."

* * *

An hour later, the Firewhisky was completely gone. Draco lay draped across the arm of the couch, occasionally giggling. Blaise had fallen out of his seat at one point. His head rested on the floor, and his feet stuck straight up in the air. Neither of them seemed to notice.

"I could" —Draco hiccupped— "I could get any girl in this school to fall in love with me."

Blaise snorted. "Yeah right. You can't get anyone better than Pansy to shag you."

Draco sat up and stared down at Blaise. "Yeah?" he slurred. "Why don't we bet on it?"

"What's the wager?" Blaise slurred in response.

"Er . . . not money . . . that's boring . . ."

"Yeah." After a long pause, Blaise asked, "Loser has to do the other's homework for the rest of the year?"

Draco shook his head. "Nah. Then one of us wouldn't pass NEWTs. What about loser has to sleep in the Forbidden Forest for a week?"

Blaise smirked. "I've got a better idea. If I win, you have to give up your position as Head Boy and give it to me."

"And what do I get if I win?" he slurred.

"You get to stay Head Boy."

Draco shook his head woozily. "Not good enough. I could just say no to the bet and keep it anyway."

"Fair enough. If you win, I have to sleep outside for the rest of the year." At Draco's skeptical look, he added, "And not get caught by Filch while doing it." Blaise managed to sling his arm far enough to shake Draco's hand.

After another short pause, Draco reached out and shook his friend's hand. "So, do I just start dating some random bird or what?"

"Nope. I'm going to pick the bird."

"Whatever."

"I've got the perfect girl," a voice behind them said.

Draco turned around. "Parkinson? What the hell are you doing interrupting our conversation?"

She folded her arms impetuously. "What does it matter? Scared that Blaise'll win?"

"Shut up! I am not!"

She smirked. "Then you'll date the girl I pick out."

He turned to Blaise. "Are you really going to let her butt in like this?"

Blaise pulled himself up off the floor and into a sitting position. "Yeah, I think I am."

"Hermione Granger," Parkinson said.

Draco fell off of the sofa. " _What?_ "

Blaise nodded. "That's a great idea."

"In your dreams!" Draco shouted.

"Nope, you already shook on it. You have to get Hermione Granger to fall in love with you by the Easter Ball," Parkinson gloated.

"Only ten days?"

"Don't think you can do it?" Blaise taunted.

"I can do it, Blaise! Shut up!" Draco crawled back onto the sofa and glared at his best friend. "You're on. Hermione Granger won't know what's hit her."

"Good. You start tomorrow."

Draco passed out trying to come up with ways to get Granger to change her opinion of him. The only thing he'd managed to figure was that he really ought to stop calling her a Mudblood.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

Hermione had stayed up all night in the Heads' common room waiting for the Head Boy to return from his rounds. While the war was long over, the Wizarding world was far from safe; too many Death Eaters had escaped and were at large. There were still frequent attacks on Muggles and Muggle-borns. So she had been worried that Malfoy had either been attacked or had done the attacking.

And then he had shown up in Ancient Runes looking perfectly coiffed—as usual—and acting as though nothing had happened. The stupid ferret had kept her up all night over what was apparently nothing. So here she was, sitting at Gryffindor table during lunch and staring angrily at the back of his head from across the Great Hall.

"Hermione, what are you staring at?" Ron asked her through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

She barely spared him a glance. "I'm glaring at stupid Ferret."

"He hasn't tried anything again, has he?" Harry asked in alarm from where he sat next to her.

Hermione shook her head and looked down at her lunch. "Not really. He stayed out all night, though, instead of doing rounds like he was supposed to. I can't for the life of me understand why Professor McGonagall chose him for Head Boy."

Ron nodded emphatically, always ready to agree that Malfoy was in the wrong. "Me neither."

"Someone really ought to take him down a notch or two, yeah?" Harry said.

"Most definitely. Wish I could do it, too," Hermione grumbled.

"Well, why don't you?" Ron asked.

"And how exactly would I do that, hmm?" she snarked. "He wouldn't let me within five feet of him voluntarily. I would never get the opportunity."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but froze as he watched someone approaching them. Hermione looked up sharply, and her mouth dropped open in surprise as she watched Draco Malfoy sauntering toward her. His gaze was fixed on her, leaving no confusion about who his target was

"Afternoon, Hermione," Draco drawled when he had reached their table. "I meant to tell you earlier that your translation in Ancient Runes was excellent. Couldn't have done it better myself."

And then he walked away, as if what he had said was completely normal.

"Did . . . did he just compliment me?" Hermione asked, turning so she could continue gaping at his retreating back.

Ron nodded mutely.

"And did he call you Hermione?" Harry nearly squeaked.

"The world's gone mad," Hermione concluded.

"Must be."

After a lengthy pause, Ron slammed his hand on the table and shouted, "Wait! That's it!"

Hermione turned her gaze to him questioningly. "What's it, Ronald?"

"I've always suspected he had a bit of a crush on you," Ron expounded. "I mean, why else would he go out of his way to make your life so miserable, right?"

"That makes no sense."

"No, it does! Listen! I really think he fancies you; that's your way in. _That's_ how you'll teach him a lesson! Get him to really fall for you, then dump his sorry arse in front of the whole school!" Ron was very excited with his idea, that much was obvious.

Hermione frowned. "That's actually not a bad idea. But how do I get him to fall in love with me? I've no practice at that."

Ron shrugged. "I mean, Lav's not the best example, but she paid a lot of attention to me and complimented me all the time. You could try that, but in a smart person way."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, be yourself, but start being nice to him. Maybe offer to help him in Ancient Runes or something."

"Okay, I'll give it a shot," Hermione agreed. "I'll start on Thursday; that's the next time we have Ancient Runes together. It'll be the perfect time to set the plan in motion."

"This is going to be absolutely brilliant," Harry said, grinning. "I can't wait to see his face."

"Hey!" Ron erupted again. "You should get him to ask you to the Easter Ball, then dump him after it's over! It's very dramatic, you see."

Hermione laughed. "Since when have you been interested in drama, Ron?"

He shrugged, his face turning bright red. "Lav may have made me watch a lot of films over Christmas break," he muttered.

Harry and Hermione laughed heartily at his reluctant admission. It was rather funny, after all. After his messy breakup with Lavender last year, Ron had spent a while tentatively trying to win Hermione's affection. It had worked for a short time, but it was when they kissed just before the Battle of Hogwarts that everything became crystal clear. They had broken apart after the kiss, then busted up laughing. The idea of them together was completely absurd, they realized, so they went back to being just friends. Lavender had swooped back in almost immediately. And after giving her another chance, Ron had actually fallen for her.

Hermione stood up from the table. "I'm going to head to the library before Arithmancy. I'll see you in Potions?"

The boys nodded, and she set off. As she passed by the Slytherin table, Draco looked up and met her eye. She raised an eyebrow at him and kept walking, but he had definitely caught her attention. Something was . . . different. She shook her head to dislodge the unsettling thought and continued to the library.

When she arrived, Hermione settled at her usual table right in the center of the library. She loved it because it was an equal distance from all the different sections, and it made her feel important. She unpacked _Numerology and Grammatica_ , a long roll of parchment that contained her notes, and a brand new self-inking quill. Then she sat down to immerse herself in her studies.

She would have succeeded, too, if Malfoy hadn't sat down across from her at that very moment.

"Hello," he said as he leaned forward on his elbows.

"Hello Malfoy," Hermione replied warily.

"It's Draco."

She raised an eyebrow. "Cute."

"Thank you."

"I was being sarcastic."

"Still, thank you."

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

He eyed her speculatively for a moment. "Unattached?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Currently."

"Surprising."

"Psycho," she spat.

Draco smirked. "Rarely."

"Hmph." She folded her arms irately.

"Interested?"

"In what, exactly?"

"Me."

" _Now_?"

"Mmhmm."

Hermione thought hard for a moment. This was the perfect opportunity, really. "Okay," she agreed slowly.

"Yeah?"

"Surprised?"

"No."

She glared at his back as he walked away, but only for a moment. Draco's cockiness would only wind up being his downfall. He was too self-assured for it to go any other way.

* * *

When Hermione met up with Harry and Ron outside of the Potions classroom, she told them about the strange turn their plan had taken.

"I knew it!" Ron shouted. Several of their classmates turned to stare at them. He grinned sheepishly, then whispered, "I knew he fancied you. This just proves it."

"I don't know," Hermione hedged. "I certainly don't trust his motives."

Harry folded his arms. "Well, if all he's looking for is sex, then you shouldn't do it."

"I know that, Harry," she reassured him. "I'm not that kind of girl, and he ought to know that as well."

"He probably does, but keep an eye on him just in case."

Hermione took a deep breath to provide a witty retort, but abruptly shut her mouth when she spotted Malfoy coming around the corner. Harry and Ron swiveled around to see what she was looking at, and both of them stiffened. Malfoy simply glided over toward them with his usual smirk plastered on his face.

"Partners, Hermione?" he asked breezily.

Hermione gaped at him. "Er, yeah. Sure, Malfoy."

He nodded once, then walked into the classroom like nothing was new.

"Godric, he has it bad," Ron muttered.

"No, he's up to something," Harry argued.

"What does it matter?" Hermione said firmly. "It's a way in, so I'll take it."

"I don't like it," Harry persisted.

"If he tries anything, I'll hex him," Hermione insisted. "And then you two will probably kill him."

"True," Ron chuckled. "Nobody messes with our 'Mione."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sure, Ron. Whatever you say."

With that, she strode into the classroom and right to where Draco was sitting. She daintily sat in the chair beside his and proceeded to pull out her textbook and potion-making supplies. Draco watched her organize her things on the desk with a small smile on his face. Hermione looked at him out of the corner of her eye and was surprised to see that his expression was more sincere than was typical for him.

"What's going on with you, Malfoy?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," he said nonchalantly. "Maybe I've decided I don't care what my father taught me anymore."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What does that mean?"

Draco sighed. "Look, you already know that my father was a Blood Supremacist. For my entire life, he told me two things: Malfoys always get what they want, and blood purity is everything. Those two things have been in conflict for me for a long time now."

"You're still being rather vague," she insisted. "Are you trying to tell me you've liked me for a long time or something?"

He raised his eyebrows and tapped his index finger against the tip of his nose in response.

"That's ridiculous!" she spat.

"Is it?" Draco asked. "I see it differently."

Hermione stared at him. "But _why?_ "

He shrugged. "I've always liked an intellectual equal."

"You—you—" she sputtered, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

"Yes, Hermione," he said patiently. "You are indeed the brightest witch of our age. But you already knew that."

"Well, of course _I_ knew that!" she snapped. "I just don't get why _you_ suddenly seem to agree!"

Professor Slughorn entered the classroom before Draco could respond. Hermione shook her head in amazement, wondering if Ron might actually be right. She spent most of the lecture in a confused haze. Thankfully, she had already read the chapter half a dozen times, so she didn't really need Slughorn's lesson. When the practical part of class began, she silently went to collect the necessary ingredients from the supply cupboard. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Draco filled the cauldron with water. What in Godric's name was going on with him?

Hermione caught Harry's gaze on her way back to her table. He shrugged helplessly at her and vaguely motioned toward Draco, who was returning to the table. Hermione quickly shifted her attention to preparing the ingredients for their potion.

Draco reached over to take half of the ingredients to help prepare. As he did, his hand brushed against Hermione's, and she blushed heatedly. She was instantly furious with herself for getting so easily flustered. Since _when_ had she gotten butterflies when being this close to Draco Malfoy? He smiled breezily at the sight of her reddened cheeks and proceeded to help brew their potion in silence.

The pair didn't say a word to each other throughout the entire class, but it didn't feel awkward to Hermione. She was surprisingly comfortable, especially with having a competent partner that she didn't have to snap at every few seconds to not screw things up. Draco seemed equally at ease, which was still odd, but she wasn't going to complain while handling potentially dangerous potion ingredients.

When class was over, they both cleaned up without speaking. Hermione gathered her things and began walking out of the classroom with Harry and Ron. They were barely past the threshold when someone grabbed her hand and gently pulled her backward. She gasped when she saw she was face-to-face with Draco, surprised he had initiated physical contact. She gently tried to extract her hand hand from his grip. Instead of letting her go, Draco pulled her flush against his body and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her heart began hammering erratically.

"W-what is it?" she stammered.

"Have dinner with me tonight. Just the two of us, in our common room," Draco murmured, his voice strangely alluring.

Hermione gulped. "Er, yeah. Dinner sounds good."

He nodded. "Yes, it does."

Before she could even protest, Draco leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She stared at him with wide eyes, and he just pulled away, took hold of her hand once more, and began leading her to the Heads' common room. As she passed Harry and Ron, Hermione gave them a look of desperation. Harry shrugged. Ron grinned triumphantly and gave her two thumbs up.

Merlin, she was doomed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

Draco smirked to himself as he walked toward the Heads' common room. Based solely upon Hermione's reactions to him, he knew he was going to win his bet. She was already smitten, he could tell. He murmured the password to their shared quarters in as seductive a voice as he could manage. Then he led her inside and directed her to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace.

"You wait here; I'll get everything ready."

She gave him an odd look but did as he requested. Draco moved over to the tiny kitchenette area of the common room, pulled out his wand, and directed the small wooden table and chairs toward the center of the room. He magicked a tablecloth onto it, followed by a crystal vase with a dozen red roses and two glittering candles. He figured if he pulled out all of the stops, Hermione would be that much more likely to fall in love with him.

He called for a house-elf to bring them dinner, and remembered to be extra polite to the elf once the table was set. Draco particularly enjoyed the look of dumbfounded delight on Hermione's face at his actions. But the sight of her smile did something strange to his insides. A warm, bubbly feeling was spreading through his chest, and he was torn between enjoying it and hating it. He shook his head to clear away the errant thoughts.

"Dinner's served, Hermione," he said softly.

She stood up and walked toward him. Draco watched her swaying hips with wide eyes. Sweet Salazar, had Hermione Granger always been this sexy? He was beginning to wonder if he'd been wrong about her for all these years. When she was standing beside him, he cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly and helped her into her chair.

Hermione smiled widely at him, and his heart did a strange _ga-thump._ He gulped and sat down opposite her.

"So, we never finished that conversation in Potions earlier," Hermione murmured.

"You're right," Draco replied just as softly.

"If I recall correctly," she said while taking a bite of the baked chicken, "I had just asked you why you suddenly seem to agree with everyone else about my supposed intelligence."

He nodded. "Yeah. Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any to start telling you the truth, yeah?"

Hermione lightly licked her lips. "If you're sincere about dating me, then yes. Honesty would be good."

Draco chuckled softly. "I've always known you were the smartest witch in our class. I just didn't want to admit it before." Even as he uttered the words, he realized they weren't as made up as he'd intended. Did he _truly_ believe she was his equal?

"So why start admitting it now?" Hermione asked.

He took his time buttering his roll. "The war was hard on everyone. And I guess I realized at the end of it all that life is short . . . too short. It took me a while to work up the courage, but I'm finally ready to fight for what I want."

Hermione stared at him. "And what is it that you want?"

Draco met her gaze. He took a deep breath and said, "You."

* * *

The rest of the meal went by swimmingly. Draco was pleasantly surprised to find that he had more in common with Hermione than he'd thought. That even included contempt for her friends' frequent stupidity, although her feelings about the subject were a lot less vehement than his own. Still, he found himself enjoying their time together, and didn't want it to end when they had finished eating. As a house-elf cleared away the remnants of their dinner, Draco cleared his throat somewhat uncomfortably.

"So, do you want to do something else?"

Hermione eyed him warily. "Like what?"

He was suddenly at a loss. What did one do after dinner like this? He knew what Blaise would probably do, but Draco was certain that Hermione would murder him if he suggested it. Besides, he actually found he respected her enough to not go down that path. He cleared his throat again.

"Well, what would you like to do?" There. That was a pretty safe question.

Hermione shrugged. "I dunno. I was just going to read for a bit."

He nodded. "What book are you reading right now?"

"It's a Muggle book. You probably wouldn't like it."

"Try me."

"If you insist," she said, raising an eyebrow. "It's called _The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood._ "

Draco frowned. "That sounds familiar."

Hermione shook her head. "Can't be. It was written by a Muggle, and it's fiction. You won't have heard of it before."

Still, Draco was certain he had heard the name somewhere. "Well, can we read it together?"

"I only have one copy," she said awkwardly.

It was Draco's turn to shrug. "That doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

She swallowed hard. "Okay."

Draco walked over to the sofa and sat down with his back up against the arm while Hermione got her book. He motioned for her to join him when she returned, and she hesitantly sat down between his legs and leaned back against his chest. He smirked to himself as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She tensed up at his touch.

A sudden inexplicable craving snuck up on Draco, and he bent his head to press a soft kiss to her neck. Hermione shivered and unconsciously tilted her head to the side. A triumphant feeling erupted in Draco's chest. He slipped his hand into her wild curls and turned her head towards him to give himself access to her lips. She let out a soft mewling sound that seemed to reverberate in his blood, and he deepened the kiss hungrily.

Hermione shifted so that she was facing him, and her book fell to the floor with a loud _clunk_. Draco smirked against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist once more to hold her closer. Great Merlin, but he'd been missing out on something phenomenal all this time that he had spent tormenting Hermione. Kissing her was like drinking Felix Felicis, he thought. He'd never felt so light and free before.

And as that thought registered in his lust-addled brain, he abruptly pushed Hermione away from him. "I—er—I just realized that I have an essay to write," he stuttered out.

Hermione stared at him without speaking.

"I'll see you in the morning, then." He took off up the stairs to his bedroom without another word.

When he was safely behind his closed and locked door, he began pacing back and forth at the foot of his bed. What the hell had just happened? He was supposed to be making _her_ fall in love with _him_ , not falling himself. He raked his hands through his hair in agitation, still feeling the lingering effects of his recent snogging session. Draco stomped to his en-suite bathroom, tearing his clothes off as he went. He blasted the shower as cold as it would go and proceeded to spend the next forty-five minutes trying to calm himself down.

Draco eventually managed to clear his head, but he was emotionally spent. He dried off and stumbled to bed, then collapsed on top of his covers completely nude. As he drifted off to sleep, he realized that he'd gotten himself into a situation he had no control over; it was going to turn his life upside down.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

 _Two weeks earlier  
_

Pansy Parkinson was not a nice girl, and she knew it. She was vengeful and cruel on her best days, something she was admittedly rather proud of. So when she overheard Draco telling his friends Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott that he was breaking up with her, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She was going to humiliate Draco Malfoy back into her bed, but she had to do it in such a way that she took no blame. It was a damn good thing she was Slytherin to the core.

That was why in the days after her breakup with Draco she was following him around the castle underneath a Disillusionment Charm between classes. Surely if she watched him long enough she'd stumble across something she could use to ruin him. That first day yielded no results whatsoever. Draco had to be one of the most boring and predictable people she'd ever met. So she continued to follow him around on the sly.

The Saturday after the end of her relationship, she finally learned something that she would be able to exploit. She had stopped several yards behind him in the entrance hall just as he approached the Golden Trio. Pansy smirked. Still so predictable. Draco nudged Crabbe and pointed at the three people he hated most.

Or . . . perhaps only the two people he hated most.

Pansy crept closer so she could hear what her ex-boyfriend and his rivals were arguing about.

". . . don't know anything," Draco sneered. "Why, if my father were here—"

"But he's not, is he?" Potter snapped. "Your lousy father will never do anything."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You know perfectly well why that is, Potter."

Granger turned a stern gaze to her friend. "Harry, that was uncalled for. You should apologize."

Pansy's eyes widened as Draco turned his attention on Granger. His scowl had lessened significantly.

"What's it to you, Mudblood?" Draco ground out.

"Really, Malfoy?" Granger snarked. "After everything we've been through in the war, you're still holding that stupid prejudice over my head?"

"It's still true, isn't it?" Draco hissed. "Why should I stop saying something that's a fact?"

Weasley pointed his wand at Draco's face. "Shut up."

Draco shoved Weasley's hand out of the way, making his wand clatter to the stone floor. He took a step into the other boy's personal space. "Make. Me."

Weasley drew back a fist as if to hit Draco, but Granger stepped between the two of them and shoved Weasley back a step.

"Knock it off, Ron," she snapped. "You're being ridiculous. Go back to the common room. You too, Harry!"

Potter and Weasley spent a few more seconds glaring at Draco before storming off to the Grand Staircase. Draco waggled his fingers at them with a smirk as they retreated. Granger squared off with Draco.

"And you!" she nearly shouted. "Professor McGonagall chose you as Head Boy, and this is how you behave? You're an arrogant prat! Give me one good reason I shouldn't report you!"

Draco folded his arms. "You couldn't get the Slytherin prefects to do your bidding without me, and you know it."

Granger huffed angrily, and without another word, stomped off to join her friends. Draco simply smirked in triumph.

"Bugger off," he said to Crabbe and Goyle. "I've got business to attend to." He strolled away down the corridor with his hands in his pockets, leaving his goons to make their own way back to the dungeons.

Pansy smirked to herself. This was going to be good. She practically ran back to the Slytherin common room in search of Blaise Zabini. She found him sitting in his usual armchair in front of the fireplace.

"Blaise."

He spun around. "Oh, hello Pansy."

"You'll never believe what I just found out."

Blaise raised an elegant eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Draco has a thing for Granger."

Blaise busted up laughing. "You're just _now_ figuring this out?"

Pansy's mouth dropped open. "Wait, you _knew?_ "

"I'm surprised you didn't," he answered. "Everything with Draco for years has been Granger-this or Granger-that. Nowadays I just ignore him, and he doesn't even know the difference."

"Well, whatever. I need your help."

"With what?"

"I need to get back at him for leaving me," Pansy explained. "I want to _break_ him."

"How can I help?" Blaise asked.

"Just like that? You'll help?" she asked incredulously.

"I'm a Slytherin, Pansy. I live to make other people's lives miserable."

She nodded. "I want to humiliate him. I want to use his attraction to Granger to do it."

"I'll make a bet with him that he can't woo any girl besides you," Blaise immediately piped up. "He'll deny it, of course, and that will set the stage for you declaring the girl must be Granger. Foolproof."

Pansy smirked. "I'm so glad I know you, Blaise."

He brushed fake lint from his shoulder. "Everyone is."

"So how will we get Granger to think the bet is her idea?"

"We plant the idea in her head."

"Weasley's a moron. What if he _overheard_ us talking about Draco's crush on Granger. He'd be sure to mention it to his friends," Pansy mused.

"He always has been the dumbest one in the group," Blaise agreed.

* * *

Pansy spent the next few days following the Golden Trio around as often as possible. Exactly one week after she'd discovered Draco's little secret, she decided to put her plan into action.

She dragged Blaise down to the Quidditch pitch during one of Gryffindor's practices with the agreed-upon ruse of making out in the locker room. Slytherin's locker room butted up against Gryffindor's, and they were sure to be overheard. The two friends waited in the locker room until they heard the Gryffindor team leave after their practice was over.

"You go ahead, Harry," they heard Weasley say. "I'm gonna fly a bit longer."

"Okay, Ron. See you back up at the tower, then."

Pansy immediately started in on her rehearsed lines. "Oh, Blaise," she moaned. "I'm so glad we decided to do this."

Blaise bit back a snicker. "Shut up and kiss me," he said lowly.

Right on cue, they heard Weasley as he was leaving the Gryffindor locker room stop dead outside the entrance to their locker room.

"Blaise," Pansy said sadly, "I'm glad we're together now, but I'm still so confused about why Draco ended things. Please tell me why."

Blaise grinned broadly at her and said, "Between you and me, I think he's got a thing for Granger."

"What?" Pansy pretended to shriek. "How could you think that?"

"I don't know if Draco is aware of it himself," Blaise explained. "But he does stare at her an awful lot, and most of the things he talks about are Granger-this or Granger-that. It's maddening."

With that, they heard the rapid retreat of footsteps, indicating that Weasley had sprinted away. Hopefully he was off to tell his friends about what he'd "overheard."

Pansy smirked gleefully. "You'll start the bet with Draco in one week, right?"

Blaise nodded. "Make sure to _accidentally_ walk in at the right moment, though."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll be around."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

* * *

After their bizarre date, Hermione spent the rest of the night in a confused haze. She certainly hadn't expected Draco to be so forthcoming . . . or forward. And yet, in a way, she had somehow known that was exactly what would happen. She was even more confused about her own reaction to the evening. She had walked into it so sure that she didn't like Draco one bit and would be more than happy to humiliate him in ten days' time. But now she held reservations about doing something like that.

Hermione didn't sleep a wink. The next morning, she was grumpy and exhausted, and it showed. She tossed on her nearest clean uniform, glared at her messy hair in the mirror, then stomped down the stairs to the common room. Draco sat on a couch, looking as calm and collected as ever. This only served to sour Hermione's mood further.

"Morning, love," Draco said casually.

"Whatever," Hermione grumped.

Draco looked up at her tone of voice, clearly surprised by the venom he heard in it. "What's wrong, Hermione?"

"Nothing." She stormed over to the table and began stuffing her books into her bag. "Everything."

"Is this because of last night?" he asked.

Hermione spun around, glaring daggers at his too-perfect face. "What do you think?" she snapped.

"Merlin, woman, calm down!"

She scoffed angrily and left the Heads' dorm in a huff. She wasn't really sure if she was angry with Draco for how he'd abruptly left last night or if she was just grouchy in general due to a lack of sleep. She _was_ certain that she didn't particularly care at that moment.

When she arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, her surly demeanor didn't lighten one bit as she ate whatever was nearest. Harry and Ron both eyed her warily for a good half hour before Harry finally said something.

"'Mione, are you all right?" he asked somewhat timidly.

Hermione looked up at him with a deep frown. "What do _you_ think?"

"I think you're not okay. And I think I want to know what's wrong," he said, not breaking eye contact.

It was the strange combination of concern and steely determination that finally broke her. She sighed heavily, lowered her head, and inexplicably began to cry. The fact that she was crying only made her feel worse. She absolutely _hated_ crying, and she didn't even know why she was doing it in the first place!

"Hermione!" Harry said in alarm.

She furiously swiped at her eyes and looked back up at her friend. "I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't get any sleep last night, and I'm exhausted."

"Why didn't you sleep?" Ron asked.

"I couldn't!" she exclaimed in despair. "I have no idea what's going on with Malfoy, and I was up all night worrying about it!"

Harry frowned. "Maybe you should just call this whole thing off, then. It's not worth it if it makes you this miserable."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm not going to make any decisions while I'm sleep-deprived."

"Why don't you skip lessons today," Ron said. "You can grab some sleep while Malfoy's not in the next room over."

"Yeah," Harry added. "We can keep watch if you need."

"No, I can't do that. NEWTs are coming up soon, and I've so much homework and revising to do," she said wearily.

"Is there anything we can do to help, then?" Harry asked.

"But—" Ron started.

Harry elbowed his friend in the ribs to shut him up.

"Yeah," Ron said as he rubbed at the spot where Harry had hit him. "Anything we can do?"

"Not really. I'm going to head to class now." She shrugged. "See you there."

Hermione grabbed an extra pastry and excused herself from the Great Hall. Now that she had eaten, she was less emotional, but she was still exhausted. Her feet dragged as she started for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She rubbed her eyes tiredly. If only she was the type of girl to skip class for sleep. Before she'd even made it halfway to her classroom, however, she realized she had left her textbook in her common room. With a sigh of irritation, tossed her pastry in a garbage bin and headed the other way.

She mumbled the password when she reached the Heads' dorm and dragged herself inside. Glancing at the clock, she realized she had a lot of time before class was due to start, so she tossed her bag on the couch and slumped beside it. After a moment, she called for a house-elf. A cup of hot cocoa sounded great just then. The little elf bowed low before leaving to retrieve her drink. While Hermione waited, Draco reentered the common room.

"There you are," he said.

Hermione turned her head to look at him. "Here I am."

"Are you all right?"

She sighed. "I'm tired, Malfoy."

He frowned unhappily. "So it's back to my surname now, is it?"

"Can we not?" she asked wearily.

Draco walked over and stood beside the sofa. "Okay, fine. Do you want to tell me why you're so tired?"

"I didn't get any sleep last night, all right?"

"Why not?"

Just then, the house-elf reappeared in front of Hermione with her mug of hot cocoa.

"Thank you so much," she murmured.

The house elf grinned broadly, bowed, and Disapparated.

"So why didn't you get any sleep, Hermione?" Draco persisted.

She dragged a hand down her face. "It's not important. Now will you leave me alone so I can get ready for class?" Without waiting for a response, she reached under the coffee table and retrieved her Defense textbook.

Draco watched her for a few minutes. "All right then," he finally said.

Hermione sighed again. She set her mug down on the table beside her, then opened her book to chapter six to reread the topic for today's Defense lesson. She became engrossed in the text. Draco began pulling things out of his bag and setting them on the table by her side. It irritated her that he couldn't just unpack his bag on the other side of the room.

Hermione waited impatiently for Draco to move his things to the small dining table in the kitchenette. When he was out of the way, she reached for her cocoa and took a sip. It was divine. She propped her book open on the arm of the sofa and cradled the warm mug in her hands while she read. The strange duo fell into a companionable silence—which somewhat unnerved Hermione. But soon the combination of the comfortable atmosphere, the cheery crackling of the fire, and the warm cocoa in her belly had lulled her to sleep.

* * *

Draco persistently kept his back to Hermione until the sound of pages turning had ceased. He turned around, pleased to see that his plan had worked. Hermione was resting her head on the arm of the sofa in what had to be an uncomfortable position. With uncharacteristic tenderness, he walked across the room and moved her until she was lying down. He conjured a blanket and draped it over her sleeping form.

He couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't been able to sleep last night. Was it the same reason that he was tossing and turning for hours? What if it was? Did it mean something? Draco shook his head to rid himself of the confusing thoughts, but couldn't help but dwell on the fact that he had done something without an ulterior motive. Seeing Hermione so bedraggled and tired had tugged at something in his chest. Under the ruse of getting ready for the day's lessons, he had hunted for the small vial of Dreamless Sleep that he kept in his bag. When he was sure Hermione wasn't looking, he'd poured it into her cocoa. Honestly, how could making sure she got sleep benefit him in any way? He hadn't even been thinking of that when he'd done it.

What had gotten into him? It hadn't even been thirty-six hours and he was already screwing things up. Draco took a deep breath. What he really needed to do was focus on schoolwork. He had to focus on his priorities. Number one was making sure he didn't lose his position as Head Boy.

The war had been unkind to his family, and being named Head Boy was something that he needed in order to boost his public image. If he didn't repair the Malfoy family's reputation, he would lose everything they had spent centuries working for. The Wizengamot still was not convinced of their rehabilitation, and one little screw up would mean prosecution and the confiscation of all Malfoy property and funds. For the sake of his mother, he had to fix things. She had been very ill since the end of the war, and he knew that if they lost everything, she would not survive. Draco would do anything to protect his mother.

Remembering all of these things helped to strengthen his resolve. He would get Hermione to fall in love with him, but he would make sure to compartmentalize his own feelings. He couldn't afford to lose sight of why this was important. He just wished he had thought of the consequences of losing _before_ he had agreed to the bet.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

* * *

Hermione awoke groggy and disoriented. She licked her lips, and immediately recognized the lingering sweet taste on her tongue. She'd been fed a sleeping potion. Curse that Draco Malfoy! He had drugged her! In a sudden panic, she wondered if he'd done something else to her while she'd been unconscious, and she flew into a sitting position. The blanket that pooled around her waist put that fear to rest, however.

She supposed Draco had meant well, but he had caused her to miss class! Judging by the angle of the sunlight streaming in through the window, it was late afternoon. Hermione growled in frustration. She had missed _all_ of her lessons. That was just great! Stupid Draco Malfoy had no idea what he'd done. Not only was she going to have to work twice as hard to get her homework done, but she also had tarnished her reputation of never missing a class. She suddenly hated him for forcing her to sleep.

In a fit of rage, she decided that she didn't just want to humiliate Draco at the Easter ball in nine more days. She was going to put him through hell by being as horrendously annoying as possible. If he was brave enough to stick it out that long, then she'd be perfectly ready to dump him on his sorry arse.

When the door to the common room opened, Hermione's head swiveled to meet Draco's gaze. He smiled at her warmly and held out a small bouquet of daisies.

"Feeling better?" he asked softly.

Hermione bit back the angry retort on her tongue and nodded. "Much better, thank you."

"Good. Are you doing anything right now?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I _should_ be doing homework. Why?"

Draco shrugged. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me for dinner."

"Oh." She was about to agree when she was hit with a moment of inspiration. "What if we were to go to London instead? We could just Apparate there."

"Wouldn't we get in trouble for leaving the grounds? Besides, we have classes tomorrow, " he said.

Hermione shook her head. "We'll be fine if so long as we get permission from McGonagall first."

He cocked an eyebrow. "And she'd let us go? Just like that?"

"There are plenty of prefects to cover for us while we're gone. We'll be gone for a few hours, not a few days." She chuckled at her little joke.

Draco frowned. "What exactly did you want to do in London?"

She smirked. "I was hoping you'd be amenable to experiencing a bit of my culture for a change."

His eyes nearly popped out of his head and his face went even paler than usual. "Oh, I—well . . ."

"Don't be a chicken," Hermione goaded. "The Muggles won't kill you. Probably."

He gulped visibly. "I—I guess I could go try something."

Hermione took a little pity on him. "I think I'd just like to go to the cinema. It'll be great fun."

"What's a cinema?" he asked warily.

"It's kind of hard to explain," she hedged. "It's like reading a book, but you watch it on a really big screen."

Draco raised his eyebrow again. "I guess I'll just have to see what you're talking about."

She nodded. "Do you want to grab something for us to eat while I go ask McGonagall for permission to leave?"

"Sure. Meet you in the entrance hall."

The two left their common room together, and Hermione was mildly surprised that Draco didn't attempt to hold her hand. They parted ways at the staircase; Hermione went up toward the headmistress's office and Draco went down to the Great Hall. She plotted ways to embarrass her "boyfriend" as she climbed the stairs. Taking him into Muggle London was a great start because he would be so far out of his element. But it wasn't enough. Her musings came to an end when she reached McGonagall's office. Time to put her plan into action.

She knocked lightly on the door and entered upon receiving McGonagall's permission.

"Miss Granger, what can I do for you this evening?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Okay, so this requires a little bit of background information," Hermione started. "I don't know if you're aware, but Draco Malfoy and I are sort of dating now." She grimaced at the headmistress.

McGonagall smiled. "Oh, I've heard. I'm certain everyone from here to America has heard, my dear."

Hermione blushed. "Well then. So, er, Draco and I were talking, and I really want to introduce him to some of my culture. So I was wondering if we could have permission to leave campus for a few hours so I can take him to the cinema?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Well, I suppose no harm can come from it," she mused. "Don't stay out past castle curfew, though. Wouldn't want to give younger students the wrong impression."

Hermione nodded. "Absolutely. We'll be back long before then, I promise."

"All right, then. I hope you two have fun."

With that, Hermione spun around and sprinted back down to the entrance hall. Draco was waiting right where he said he'd be, with his book bag slung over one shoulder. He smiled warmly at her as she approached, and she quickly tamped down the butterflies that attempted a riot in her stomach. It simply would not do to fall for the ferret. Not at all.

"You ready?" Draco asked.

She nodded. "Are you?"

He swallowed. "Y-yeah. Sure."

"Let's do this, then."

The two walked across the grounds of the school and out to Hogsmeade Station, where there was a public Apparition point. Hermione gingerly took Draco's hand in hers, then turned on her heel and Apparated them to a small cinema in a relatively unpopulated neighborhood in London. Draco stared up at the flashing lights on the marquee and examined the titles of the shows currently playing.

"What is Psycho?" he asked incredulously.

Hermione laughed. "A horror film. My dad tried to get me to see it over Christmas holiday. It's about a serial killer or something. If you like that sort of thing."

Draco shuddered. "No thanks. I've had enough of serial killers to last me a lifetime, especially since one lived in my house for nearly a year."

"I get it, believe me," she agreed. "So what about this one called Message in a Bottle? My mum wrote me about it; it's a love story, supposed to be really romantic."

"Er, if that's what you want to see, sure." He shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"The other movie isn't playing for a few hours yet," Hermione noted. "So it's either Psycho or Message in a Bottle."

"Looks like we're going to see a romantic . . . film, was it?"

She nodded. "Shall we?"

Draco extended his arm for her to take. "We shall."

They walked inside and Hermione purchased two tickets. They bypassed the snack stand, as Draco still had his book bag full of food from the Great Hall, and found perfect seats in the theater, just where Hermione liked: dead center. They were alone but for a rather burly man in the row behind them and an elderly woman close to the front.

As the film started, Hermione found herself the tiniest bit reluctant to follow through with her plan for the evening. Draco handed her a small flask filled with pumpkin juice, and she sipped on it contemplatively. She was at war with herself. He had surprised her quite a bit since they'd left Hogwarts—hell, he'd surprised her by agreeing to leave at all! Still, she forced herself to remember his douchebaggery in order to retain her steely resolve. Hermione Granger was many things, but a quitter was not one of them.

She let the first twenty or so minutes go by in silence, but then leaned in to not-so-quietly whisper in Draco's ear, "Aww, this is so romantic, don't you think?"

He nodded, his gaze practically glued to the screen. "Shhh."

"I just love romantic films," she continued. "I've never been to see one with an actual _boyfriend_ before."

The man in the row behind them cleared his throat. "Quiet. I'm trying to watch the film."

Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned her head on Draco's shoulder. She trailed a finger along his collarbone wistfully. "What are you thinking about, Draco?" she asked.

"Nothing. I'm just watching the film," he whispered back.

"Oh, come on. What are you thinking?" she persisted in a slightly whiny tone.

"SHH!" the man behind them spat out. "I like this movie."

Hermione spared the man a withering glance and returned her attention to Draco. "Am I really supposed to believe your mind is a complete blank right now?" She folded her arms. "Who is she?"

"Who's _who?_ " Draco asked in bewilderment, finally tearing his attention away from the film.

"The girl you're thinking about!" Hermione demanded, snickering internally.

"I can't hear," the man behind them growled.

"I'm not thinking about a girl," Draco murmured, looking at her with wide eyes.

She stuck out her bottom lip. "You can't watch a romantic film like this, with a gorgeous woman like _that_ " —She waved her hand dramatically at the screen— "in front of you and not be thinking about another girl!"

"Shh!" came the demand from behind.

"You want to know what I'm thinking about?" Draco muttered.

She nodded and leaned in closer to him.

"Now I can't hear, _and_ I can't see!" the man behind them practically shouted.

A sudden idea popped into Hermione's head, though it was potentially dangerous. She spun around in her seat to face the man behind her. "If you don't shut up, my boyfriend is going to come back there and pummel your arse."

Draco's eyes popped wide and his face whitened.

The man simply sneered at Draco and said, "Next time you bring the girl out in public, do the world a favor and tape her mouth shut."

"What?!" Draco exclaimed. "You can't talk about her like that."

The man's glare darkened. "You, outside. Now."

Without hesitation, Draco stood up and left the theater. The look on his face had been nothing short of murderous. Hermione gulped. Perhaps her plan had backfired. She grabbed Draco's bag and dashed out of the theater behind the two men, suddenly feeling very anxious.

". . . talk to me like that, fine. But don't speak to a lady like that. It's completely inappropriate in a public place," Draco was saying.

The other man clenched his fists.

"Draco, wait," Hermione stuttered out as she approached. "I-I didn't mean it, don't fight, please."

He lifted a hand in reassurance and said, "I'm not looking for a fight, honestly. Sir, just apologize to her and—"

He was abruptly cut off when the other man slugged him in the face. He crumpled to the ground.

The man shook out his hand. "Now I'm going back in to enjoy Message in a Bottle!" And he stormed back into the theater without a backward glance.

"Oh Merlin! Draco!" Hermione dashed over to where he had fallen on the floor and dropped to her knees beside him. "Oh Godric, are you okay? I'm so sorry, this is all my fault."

He raised a hand to his jaw and winced at the bruise already forming there. He wiped a small trickle of blood from the corner of his lip. "Well, that didn't go as planned," he deadpanned.

Hermione burst out laughing. "No, not really. I'm so sorry." She helped him into a sitting position and carefully examined his jaw.

Draco slumped against her and rested his head on her stomach. "That actually hurt quite a bit."

"Do you want some ice?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist and raised his head a bit. "No, I think it's starting to feel a bit better actually."

"Really?" she asked worriedly.

Draco smirked and raised his head to rest against Hermione's breasts. "Much better," he mumbled as he rubbed his head back and forth.

"Draco!" Hermione said, scandalized.

He laughed. "Aw, come on."

She lightly slapped his arm and pushed him off of her. "Come on, let's go."

He reached up as if to ask for her to help him to his feet. She took his hand and heaved, all the while rolling her eyes in amused exasperation. Once he had regained his footing, he placed a hand over his jaw. Hermione's eyes widened when she saw the ripple of wandless magic that healed his injury. He smirked at her again.

"Surprised?" he asked in a low, silky voice.

Hermione gulped. "Er, no?"

He chuckled and pulled her hand until she was flush up against him. Her eyes grew wide, and her heart started pounding. This was definitely not going according to plan. But as Draco's lips descended upon hers, she had to acknowledge that when Draco Malfoy was involved, her plans never played out how she intended.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

* * *

Draco was somewhat mortified as he sat in his room late that night. He had been so determined to keep Hermione at a metaphorical arm's length, and yet she'd broken past his barriers _yet again_. He contemplated the terms of his bet with Blaise. He had to make Hermione fall in love with him by the Easter ball. Okay. So far he was doing a pretty good job of that, or at least he thought so. His bet only stated that he would have to give up his Head Boy status if he _lost_ the bet, but there was nothing that kept him from falling for the girl and keeping her once the bet was up.

He began to seriously wonder if that was the course he wanted to take.

They had a lot in common, he and Hermione. More than he'd ever stopped to consider in the past. Maybe they could work out in the long run if he tried hard enough. Draco sighed heavily. What was he doing, bothering to consider such blasphemy? He was Draco sodding Malfoy for Salazar's sake. He didn't know how to play nice for long, and he was bound to blow it with her eventually.

He flopped onto his bed in a huff. What was he going to do? No matter what happened, he would protect his mother. But at the same time, he was so used to getting what he wanted, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was true. He wanted Hermione Granger. For real. Forever. That thought scared him more than he was willing to admit.

Draco fell into a restless sleep still aimlessly chasing thoughts in circles around his head. When he awoke the next morning, it was far too early, and he was still knackered. He knew he needed more sleep to function in classes, yet he also knew wouldn't be able to get back to sleep again. How had Hermione changed his life so much in less than 72 hours? The more he thought about it, the more he was forced to consider the idea that perhaps Hermione had already been under his skin and he'd just been unaware. He wondered if Blaise and Pansy had known that when they initiated the bet.

Groggily, he dressed and charmed his hair into submission. Upon second glance in the mirror above his trunk, he cast a spell to cover the bruises under his eyes. There. He looked as impeccable as ever, and nobody would be the wiser about his exhaustion. Once he'd finished that, he made his way out to the Heads' shared common room. Hermione was already there, reading a book in front of the fireplace. Draco's heart shuddered to a stop at the sight of her. How was it that she grew more beautiful every time he saw her? All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and—

He halted _that_ thought in its tracks, certain that it would do him absolutely no good to keep going down that road. But he did wonder . . .

"Morning," he said softly as he descended the stairs.

"Hey you," Hermione replied.

"Did you get your homework done last night?" he asked.

She nodded. "I stayed up pretty late, but I did everything I needed to. What about you?"

He shrugged. "Got it all done yesterday afternoon."

"Oh."

An awkward silence grew between them.

"So," he said to break the tension. "It's Friday."

"Yep," Hermione responded, still engrossed in her book.

"What are your plans for free period this morning?" he asked uncomfortably. Why were things suddenly so weird?

"Well, now that you mention it," Hermione said with a bright grin, "I wanted to show you this book I've been working on."

Draco examined it more closely, a strange feeling of foreboding creeping up his spine. "What is it?"

She flipped it closed and showed him the cover: _Our Family_.

He gulped nervously. "Okay?"

"It's us!" Hermione exclaimed. "I Floo'd your mother this morning to get some pictures of you, and I made us this family scrapbook!"

Draco's mouth dropped open. "You . . . Floo'd . . . my mother?"

She nodded eagerly. "And I used a bit of magic to whip up this great album. Come look."

Still in shock, Draco walked over to the couch and sat beside her. The cover of the scrapbook had a clearly doctored photo of the two of them in a field. They were staring lovingly at each other and waving at the camera intermittently. Hermione opened to the first page. Draco stared in horror.

"It's our wedding day," she explained.

He didn't need her to elaborate, though. He was staring at another manipulated picture; he was in his best dress robes, and she was in an elegant white gown. Their likenesses were kissing heatedly. He gulped. This was starting to get really weird.

"And these are our kids," Hermione said as she turned the page again. "Obviously I don't know what they'll look like, but I whipped up a little spell to sort of merge our features together." She pointed at a hideous girl with white-blonde hair, then at an even uglier boy with a shock of curly brown hair. "That's Hermione Jr, and that's Draco Jr."

Draco abruptly stood. He couldn't handle whatever the hell was happening here. Whatever he thought he'd been feeling when he awoke this morning had vanished. This girl was bat-shit crazy.

"You—I can't believe you did this," he sputtered.

Hermione closed the book. "You don't like it?"

He shook his head. "It's insane!" he insisted. "We've been dating for three days!"

"So you don't like our children?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

Draco threw his hands into the air. "You're insane! _Why_ did you think I would like something like this? Do you know me at all?" Before she could reply, he stomped back to his bedroom. He needed a few dozen shots of Firewhisky to burn away the memory of what had just happened.

* * *

Hermione grinned triumphantly as soon as Draco's bedroom door had slammed shut. She tossed the scrapbook into the fireplace and left the dorm, pleased with the results. She hadn't _actually_ Floo'd Narcissa Malfoy. She wasn't suicidal. She had just snapped a picture or two of Draco while he'd been asleep. No big deal.

When she entered the Great Hall for breakfast, she hurried over to Harry and Ron to tell them what she'd done. They roared with laughter at her vivid descriptions of the morning's events.

"I—I can't—breathe," Ron choked out between guffaws.

Harry pounded a fist on the table. "I would've paid good money to see his face."

Hermione smirked. "If this doesn't take him down a peg, I don't know what will."

"It's perfect," Ron wheezed. "He's going to go absolutely mental."

"What if he breaks up with you?" Harry asked.

"Who cares?" Hermione said. "I'll still have tortured him for a while."

"Fair enough."

The trio finished breakfast, still chortling happily. Afterward, they gathered their bags and headed to Transfiguration. As this was a NEWT level course, there were only a handful of seventh years that attended. Draco just so happened to be one of them. He was already in the room when they entered.

Hermione looked at him with big doe-eyes and approached his table. "Are you still mad at me?" she asked tremulously. Pride swelled in her chest as she watched him take a deep, fortifying breath.

"No, of course not," he finally replied. "I was just . . . surprised, is all. I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings."

That surprised her. Draco _apologized_ for her being purposefully crazy. How unexpected.

"Still, I imagine you'd like some space for a while," Hermione hinted. "I'll just go sit with Harry and Ron—"

"No, really," Draco interrupted. "Sit with me. Please."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay."

Harry and Ron stared at her incredulously from across the room. She shrugged. Perhaps this plan had backfired, too.

* * *

The next day didn't go much better. Draco could hardly believe that Hermione was acting the way she was. It was so out of character for her to be so . . . well, _girly_. Over the last 24 hours, she had driven him crazy. She spent hours asking for random food from the kitchens, only to change her mind and ask for something else. She spent a few more hours being absurdly clingy and demanding to know everything about his ex-girlfriends. After that, she bored him to death with talk of revision schedules and studying for NEWTs. Draco was ready to tear out his hair. And if he hadn't had so much at stake, he would've dropped her on her head off of the Astronomy Tower. He was beginning to wonder if following through with the bet was worth it.

But just as he was about to go find Blaise and figure out if he could forfeit, a thought struck him. Maybe if he laid it on extra thick, he'd get her to fall for him and she'd stop being so bipolar. It was worth a shot, at any rate. So instead of leaving the dorm, he knocked on Hermione's bedroom door.

She opened it, apparently in the middle of getting ready for bed. She was in rumpled pajamas, and a toothbrush hung out of her mouth. "Dwaco?" she mumbled through her mouthful of toothpaste.

Draco internally cringed at the sight, but he was going to do this. He had to. "So, I was wondering . . ."

"Yeah?" Hermione prompted, pulling her toothbrush out of her mouth.

He swallowed back his revulsion. "Well, I was thinking . . . you know how on Thursday we did something out in the Muggle world? I thought maybe we could do something in mine next. If you're up for it, that is."

She held up a finger, then turned around and went into her en-suite. He heard water running in the sink, and then she reappeared. "What do you mean?"

"Iwonderedifyouwantedtogoseemymothertomorrow," he said in a rush.

"What?" She scrunched up her nose.

"I—" He took a deep, calming breath. "I wondered if you wanted to go see my mother tomorrow," he said evenly. "She likes to do Sunday afternoon tea with me, and I thought maybe you could come if you wanted to."

Hermione's face whitened considerably. He understood, really. It wasn't like she had the best memories of his mother, after all. Nor of his childhood home, either. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to ask this of her, especially since it was only the fifth official day they'd been dating.

"Well, I—" she started uncomfortably. "I suppose I could try."

Draco's gaze snapped to hers. "Wait, really?" he asked in astonishment. "You'll come?"

She nodded slowly. "The war is over. Your mother defected, and I realize that I have to give her a second chance if I'm going to give you one."

"Wow," he breathed, eyes wide. "Yeah, okay."

She smiled shyly at him, and suddenly Draco knew he had his Hermione back.

Without stopping to think, Draco pulled her into his arms. He kissed her almost roughly in his haste to connect their lips. She softened against him and kissed him back with equal ardor. He was certain his heart stopped beating when she sucked his bottom lip between her teeth, and he hungrily deepened the kiss. They only broke away from each other when his chest burned for air. And even then, Draco continued to pepper small kisses along her jaw and down her neck as his pulse returned to normal.

"Um," Hermione gasped out. "We should— we should stop."

He hummed lazily into the skin of her shoulder, continuing his attentions.

"D-draco," she persisted, "please. This is too fast."

He stilled his actions and took a small step back. "I'm sorry," he said lowly. "I-I got carried away."

She nodded. "Me too," she whispered.

"Well, er, I guess I'll see you in the morning?" he asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Hermione looped a strand of her hair around her index finger. "I . . . yeah."

He nodded slowly. "You'll still come tomorrow?"

"Of course. I already said I would, didn't I?" She smiled softly at him.

"That you did," Draco agreed. "Tea is at noon exactly, and Professor McGonagall lets me use her Floo to get there. You okay to leave here about eleven forty-five?"

"That sounds perfect."

"Okay then."

He slowly backed away as she closed her door, a dopey grin on his face. This was ridiculous. One second he was thinking about getting rid of Hermione, and the next he was snogging her like his life depended on it. Draco spent most of the night in agitated restlessness. After their insanely delightful snogging session, he had needed a very long, cold shower to calm down. That witch was going to be the death of him.

* * *

The next morning, Draco awoke late. When he rolled over and saw that his clock read 11:30, he almost panicked. He was supposed to leave for tea with his mother in 15 minutes! In quick succession, he cast a spell to fix his hair and hide the bruises under his eyes, then he cast another one to press his Sunday Best (his mother always expected him to be dressed this way on Sundays). When he was satisfied that he didn't look the way he felt internally, he left his room and approached Hermione's. He knocked gently, and the door opened to reveal the absolutely most _beautiful_ version of Hermione Granger he'd seen to date.

She'd left her hair down, but had tamed it with some kind of potion or spell, for it hung down her back in full ringlets, sans its usual frizz. Her face was done up with just a hint of makeup—enough to accentuate her cheekbones and gorgeous eyes. Draco's favorite part of the ensemble was, however, her dress. He'd never seen her wear it before. It was a white, sleeveless sundress that stopped just below her knees. It was embroidered with little daisies. She'd paired the dress with butter-yellow flats. Lastly, she'd accentuated with a delicate gold necklace made up of tiny daisies; it came with a matching bracelet and pair of earrings, too.

Draco was left utterly speechless for a moment, and simply stood there staring at her. She twined her hands together self-consciously.

"I knew this wasn't the right outfit," she mumbled hurriedly. "I'll just go change."

His hand zipped out and snagged her wrist as she turned to reenter her bedroom. "No," he choked out. "It's perfect."

A pretty blush crept up Hermione's cheeks, and she averted her gaze. "Okay. Shall we go, then?"

He nodded and led the way out of their common room. They walked quickly but silently through the halls to McGonagall's office. Draco stayed quiet for as long as he could, but he finally dragged her to a stop a few doors away from their destination.

"My mother," he started uncomfortably. "I need to tell you before we go to the manor that she's . . . she's not well."

"What's wrong with her?" Hermione asked quietly.

Draco shook his head. "The Healers think it's the effect of too much residual Dark magic or something. I disagree, but that's beside the point. Just know that she is very weak and probably won't move around a lot. She's not trying to be snobbish, really. She just . . . _can't_."

"It's okay, Draco," she said gently, placing a hand on his elbow. "I won't judge her, I promise."

He nodded sharply. "And one more thing: she doesn't believe all of that pureblood stuff. Never really did. She's not going to treat you poorly, I swear it."

Hermione shocked him by leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Can we go now?" she asked when she pulled back.

"Yeah," he whispered.

She smiled and took his hand, then walked beside him up to McGonagall's office. The headmistress spared them one shocked glance before waving them toward her fireplace and allowing them to take the Floo to Malfoy Manor. During the brief travel, Draco's cynical side scoffed at him for being such a sap. When had he forgotten how to be a Slytherin, let alone a _Malfoy?_ When they stepped out on the other side, he rigidly waited for Hermione to brush the soot off her shoulders.

"Come on, your mother's waiting," Hermione whispered.

Draco stepped back with a nod. "Right."

He kept space between the two of them as they walked to the sunroom at the back of the manor. The more time that passed, the more he became mortified with his actions. What was he doing? He couldn't allow what was happening to _change_ him, at least not this much. He was still Draco Malfoy, after all. But at the same time, walls had come down between them that he hadn't really known existed before. He felt at home with Hermione, and he didn't want to lose that.

He shook his head minutely and opened the doors to the sunroom with a flourish.

"Draco, darling, you made it," Narcissa said softly.

"Hello, Mother," he responded warmly. "You weren't waiting long, I hope?"

"No, not long at all," she said.

"Mother, I presume you remember Hermione Granger?" Draco placed his hand on the small of Hermione's back and ushered her into the room.

She walked into the sunroom with small steps, but her head held high.

"Hello, Miss Granger," Narcissa murmured. "I don't suppose you'd like to start over, would you?"

Hermione smiled widely. "I'd like that very much, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa nodded and patted the space beside her on the sofa. "Then come in and have tea with us."

Draco hid his shock from both women as he took a seat in the armchair across from them. He almost didn't recognize his mother. She was far livelier than he'd seen her all year. Perhaps it hadn't been such a bad idea to bring Hermione here after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

* * *

Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find that she got along well with Narcissa Malfoy. And while she was having a wonderful time conversing about the strange pureblood customs and their unbelievable Muggle equivalents, she felt a bit ill at ease. Draco had been acting so distant since they'd arrived at the manor, and it was really bothering her. Of course, she did her best not to let it show, even to herself. She wasn't supposed to be falling for Draco in this whole scheme. So she told herself she didn't care one whit what he did.

Except she did care.

After the house-elves had cleared away the leftovers from tea, Draco excused himself, saying he had some "business" to attend to. Hermione shrugged it away and returned her attention to Narcissa.

"Mrs. Malfoy, may I ask you something?"

"Oh, please call me Narcissa, darling," she responded. "And yes, you may ask me a question."

"I hope it doesn't offend you," Hermione started, "but Draco told me your health has been troubling you lately, and I was wondering what was going on."

Narcissa nodded. "Yes, I'll admit it's a touchy subject," she said. "But I don't mind discussing it with you, as I trust nothing will leave this room."

"You have my word," Hermione promised. "I'm actually interested in becoming a Healer after I graduate, so if there's anything I can do to help you, I want to do it."

She smiled. "I assume Draco told you that other Healers have suggested my ailment is a result of lingering Dark magic that I've been exposed to?"

"Yes, but that sounds preposterous," Hermione said. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"Nor have I," Narcissa agreed. "Personally, I believe it's some kind of curse that activated when Lucius died in Azkaban."

Hermione gasped in horror. "He _cursed_ you?"

"You mistake me, my dear," Narcissa corrected with a shake of her head. "I don't believe he meant it quite like that." She sighed wistfully. "As bad as Lucius seemed at times, he really did love me very much, and I him. He often told me that he never wanted to be apart, in life or death, and I believe he may have cast the spell when we were first married without knowing exactly what it did."

Hermione pursed her lips. "You must know that I have a bit of a hard time believing that, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

"I understand," Narcissa acquiesced.

"All right, so if we go forward assuming you were cursed, then your symptoms should help in identifying what it was. Do you mind discussing that with me?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

Narcissa smiled softly. "No, I don't mind. And Hermione, please know that I'm not upset that you are uncertain of Lucius's motives. I know he was only ever hostile with you, and it must be hard for you to reconcile the Lucius that I knew with the one _you_ knew."

"Thank you, Narcissa. You truly are a forgiving woman."

"I should say the same to you. I never dared to think that _you_ of all people would be willing to forgive me the things I've done."

Hermione smiled. "There's no point living in the past now, is there?"

"Indeed." Narcissa sat up straighter with a bit of a wince and rested her hands in her lap. "Now, as for my symptoms."

"Yes," Hermione said hastily. "Let's go through those."

"Primarily, I struggle most with low energy. Most days I can't even get out of bed, but I do make more of an effort on Sundays to see Draco. Aside from that, I have soreness just about everywhere, my eyesight is often blurry, and on occasion I black out for long periods of time."

"I see. Anything else?"

Narcissa shook her head. "Not that I can think of right now, no."

"All right. Well, I have some suspicions as to what it could be, but I'd like to do some research before I let you know. Is that okay with you?" Hermione asked.

Narcissa surprised her and leaned forward to pull her into a hug. "I'm just grateful that someone's taking me seriously for once," she murmured. "Thank you so much. You are truly a treasure."

Hermione blushed as Narcissa pulled back. "I'm sure you say that to all the girls Draco brings home," she deflected.

Narcissa gave her an odd look. "What other girls? Why, you're the first one he's ever brought home, dear."

Hermione was shocked into silence and didn't get the chance to respond before Draco had reentered the room.

"Hermione, will you join me on a walk?" he asked.

She glanced once more at Narcissa, then stood up. "Sure, I'd love to."

Draco took her hand as they left the sunroom and headed for the front door again. They spent the first several minutes in a rather comfortable silence, walking across the manor's grounds and out into the lush fields surrounding the property. Even as they walked casually down a dirt trail through a field of wildflowers, Hermione got the distinct feeling that Draco had something he wanted to talk about. Finally, she couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"Was there something you needed to talk about?"

Draco stopped, released her hand, and turned to face her. Indecision warred across his features for a long time before he burst out, "Did you know that most of Wiltshire was actually founded by the Malfoy family?"

She raised an eyebrow, certain that this was not what had been on his mind. But she decided to play along. Perhaps he'd get to it if she was patient. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, my family's lived in this area for centuries."

He went quiet again after that and resumed walking down the path at a leisurely pace. Hermione stared at his back for a while. Maybe he _wouldn't_ say what was on his mind.

"Draco, wait," she called out.

He stopped, but didn't turn around.

"What aren't you telling me?"

She watched his shoulders droop in resignation. He slowly faced her and retraced his steps back to where she stood. After a long moment spent in silence, he looked up and met her gaze.

"I—" He paused, sighed, and began again. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed with this whole thing between us." He feebly waved his hand back and forth to indicate the two of them.

Hermione sighed. She understood all too well. "I know. We've only been together for a few days, but I've still never felt like this before."

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off when a loud rumble of thunder sounded overhead. He looked up at the sky with wide eyes, then reached for her hand and began running back toward the manor.

"It's going to rain, come on!"

"Wait, Draco, why don't we just Apparate back?" Hermione called as she stumbled after him.

"Can't!" he called over his shoulder. "The wards won't let us!"

They barely made it to the edge of the wildflower field before the skies opened above them and rain began to pour down. Hermione was soaked within mere minutes, and her hair began to frizz up in the worst way. It took far longer than it should have to reach the manor again, as the road had become muddy from the rain. Their feet squelched through the muck, fighting against the wetness that threatened to drag them down.

Hermione shrieked when a particularly large mud puddle swallowed her shoe. She dropped Draco's hand and spun around to retrieve it, only to lose her balance. She felt Draco's hand grab at her elbow, but her forward momentum was too much for him to stop, and he went tumbling into the mud with her.

For a moment, she stared into Draco's eyes in shock. His gaze roamed her face, and suddenly his face split in a wide smile as he began to laugh. Hermione glared at him halfheartedly for a split second, and then she was laughing, too. He looked positively ridiculous the way he was covered from head to toe in the nearly-black mud. His white-blonde hair was nearly black, and there was a great glob of dirt sitting on the bridge of his nose. She reached up to wipe it away, but the mud on her own fingers wound up smearing it over his cheek. She laughed harder.

Draco finally rolled off of her and struggled to his feet. He fished her missing shoe out of the mud, then helped her to stand. She put her shoe back on, causing more mud to squish out between her toes. Then, still laughing, they walked the rest of the way back to the manor.

When they stepped into the grand foyer, Draco cast a spell on the floor to repel the mud and water dripping from their clothes and shoes, then led her by the hand down a hallway, up a flight of stairs, and into a bedroom.

Hermione looked around, certain that this room decorated in shades of green and silver belonged to the man holding her hand. If she hadn't been sure before, the shelf above his bed filled with various miniature dragons—like the one Harry received during the Triwizard Tournament's first task—was a dead giveaway. Each of the small figurines was wandering around the shelf, wrestling with its shelf-mates, or blowing harmless sparks out its nose.

"You can clean up in here," Draco said, startling her from her admiration of the tiny dragons.

Hermione turned to face him, and he was indicating a cavernous room beyond an archway. She walked in, even more in awe of her surroundings. The bathroom was nothing but tiles made up of emeralds and precious silver ores. All of the fixtures were made of steel, carved into the shape of dragons with emeralds for eyes. As she watched, the dragons writhed in their casings.

Draco walked over to a bathtub that rivaled the one in the prefects' bathroom at Hogwarts. He twisted a few taps, and warm, soapy water began gushing from the faucet.

"Er, towels are in the cupboard over there," he said, pointing to a hinged mirror. "And, er, holler if you need anything."

Hermione nodded her head, suddenly overcome with a wave of melancholy. She sank onto a bench resting against the wall perpendicular to the tub and dropped her head into her hands. Unbidden, a small sob escaped her mouth.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Draco asked, a hint of alarm coloring his tone.

She simply shook her head as tears began coursing down her cheeks. She couldn't explain it to herself, let alone to him. Draco knelt on the tile at her feet and put his hands on her knees. He peeked up at her through her fingers.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

She dropped her hands to her lap and looked up at him through tear-swollen eyes. "I have no idea," she whispered.

Draco laughed incredulously. "What?"

"It's just . . . your mother . . . before you came back into the sunroom, we were talking, and she hugged me. She really _hugged_ me. For telling her I'd do _research!_ I just—" Another sob cut her off, and she swiped at the tears on her face with a strange mix of sadness and frustration.

"Hermione . . ." Draco looked at her like he was worried for her sanity. "It was just a hug."

She swallowed back her tears and nodded her head. As she stared into his eyes, the butterflies she'd been fighting with for days rebelled and seemed to set her stomach on fire. Draco's eyes were molten steel, and his gaze seemed to burn right through her. She felt the sudden inexplicable urge to lean forward and kiss him. She tamped down the feeling instead, keeping her eyes locked on his.

Draco's gaze flicked to her lips and back up, then again. He swallowed hard, licked his own lips, and appeared to decide something. Hermione's heart thudded in anticipation as he leaned forward ever so slowly and kissed her.

The kiss was brief, hesitant. He pulled back almost immediately and returned his gaze to hers. His eyes held a question, and in that moment, she wanted to scream " _yes!_ " to the heavens. She leaned forward in answer and pressed her lips against his once more. Her arms went around his neck, and she threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He deepened the kiss, and Hermione dragged her hands down his front and let them wander underneath the hem of his shirt and against the bare skin of his chest. Draco groaned and broke the kiss so she could pull the shirt over his head. She happily obliged.

Hermione was certain her head was going to explode from the multitude of emotions rushing through her. The logical side of her brain told her to stop what was happening. Instead, she stood up, pulling Draco with her, and pressed herself as close to him as she could get. His hands roamed around to the back of her dress and lithely unzipped it. She stepped back the smallest bit to let the dress pool at her feet.

Draco stared at her like a starving man staring at a Thanksgiving feast. And then they were hurriedly shedding the rest of their clothes and falling into the bathtub, kissing all the while. Draco fumbled behind him for the knob that would shut off the water. Hermione somehow decided through her lust-hazed mind that she wanted this—that she wanted to give this to him. She had only been dating him for five days, but it felt like her whole life had been leading to this moment where she would give Draco Malfoy her virginity and her heart.

So she did.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

* * *

"You did _what?!"_ Ginny screeched.

" _Shhh!_ " Hermione waved a hand at her friend to shut her up. They _were_ in the Gryffindor common room, after all, easily overheard by anyone who cared to listen. "Please."

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Ginny said slowly. "You, Harry, and Ron made some kind of game out of Malfoy wanting to date you?"

Hermione nodded, a pained look on her face.

"And then you _slept_ with him?!"

" _Ginny!"_ she hissed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," her friend said. "But I thought this whole thing was fake. So why did you sleep with him?"

"I—I can't explain it," Hermione bemoaned. "It's like I forgot who I am. I forgot who _he_ is, and I absolutely forgot what I'm supposed to be doing! Ginny, _help me!"_

Ginny rubbed her forehead. "Okay. So you think Malfoy really does like you?"

"Yes."

"And I think it's clear from your afternoon romp that you've grown rather fond of him yourself."

"Yes," Hermione said again, albeit reluctantly.

"So just tell Harry and Ron that you're not going to go through with it," Ginny suggested.

"I can't do that," Hermione said. "They won't understand. They _hate_ Malfoy. Wait . . . why are _you_ so understanding?" She waved her hands hysterically. How had everything become so complicated?

Ginny smirked. "Because I know you. And you wouldn't have done what you did if he hadn't changed for the better."

"You really think that?"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Hermione frowned. "I still don't think I can tell Harry and Ron, though."

"Well, maybe you should just wait out the next few days and see how things go before making a decision?"

"Yeah. I think I'll do that."

* * *

Draco spent the rest of Sunday evening in a bit of a stupor. He _definitely_ hadn't planned on sleeping with Hermione after tea, _especially_ with his mother in the house!

And yet . . . it felt _right_. Like fate had somehow decided long before he was born that he would end up with Hermione. He had taken her on that walk intending to tell her the truth and beg for her forgiveness, and they had ended up making love. Not at all what he was expecting.

He wanted to do it again.

And, Merlin, he was pretty sure he was in love with her.

So he anxiously waited in the Heads' common room for her to return from Gryffindor tower. He needed to know where they stood. He knew he needed to tell her the truth, too, but it felt more impossible now than ever. Was there even a good way to tell the girl you'd just had sex with that you'd made a bet with your friends that you could do so?

Hell no.

That wasn't how he wanted things to go.

Hermione didn't return from visiting her friends until seconds before curfew. She blew in through the portrait hole with a huff, her curly hair a frizzy halo about her head. She was clutching a stitch in her side and panting as though she'd just run a marathon.

Draco lurched to his feet. "Er—hi," he said lamely.

Hermione brushed her hair out of her face impatiently. "Hi."

"I—I think we should talk," he admitted reluctantly.

She nodded. "Yeah, we should."

He swallowed roughly and sat back down on the sofa. He waited expectantly as Hermione walked over and sat beside him, then cleared his throat nervously. "So, about what happened this afternoon . . ."

Hermione's face fell. "Do you regret it?" she asked sadly.

"No!" He shook his head fiercely. "Merlin, no. It was— _you_ are—more than I deserve."

She gave him a small, sad smile. "But?"

"But I guess I'm not sure _why_ it happened. Just a few days ago you were claiming to hate me, and now . . . it just seems a bit sudden."

"Yeah, I get what you mean," Hermione murmured. "Honestly, I agree with you completely. And I'm sorry that I ever said I hated you; I don't think it was true, not even when we first met."

Well, that was surprising. "Really?"

She nodded. "I'm sure I _believed_ I hated you, but I don't think I ever really did. It's kind of hard to explain."

"So what do we do now?" Draco asked softly. "I don't regret what happened today, but if you do, I understand." He was surprised to realize that he actually meant it. If she needed to, he would end things and take the loss with as much dignity as he could muster.

"No, of course I don't regret it," Hermione insisted. "I'm the one that instigated it, after all. But I also don't know if we should go that far again. At least, not for a while."

He nodded. "Okay. I can work with that."

She smiled widely at him. "So we can go back to normal now?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What does normal even mean?" he joked.

"Fair enough. I'll clarify for you. Are we going to go back to simply dating and getting to know each other better?" She smirked at him.

"Yes. I can do that." He took her hand in his. "But first—"

With little warning, he yanked Hermione to him until she was straddling his lap, then proceeded to kiss her passionately. She sighed in surrender and a little bit of something that tasted like relief, and Draco deepened the kiss. Hermione was absolutely glorious. His chest burned with need to keep her close to him at all times. So he slowed the kiss down before it could go too far, then pulled away completely.

Resting his forehead against hers, he murmured, "What have you done to me?"

She chuckled and placed another chaste kiss on his lips before extricating herself from his hold. "I rather think the question is what have _you_ done to _me_ ," she stated.

Draco smirked at her. "I'm a big softie now, you know. I haven't felt like myself in days."

Hermione tilted her head. "Would you like to argue for a bit?"

"I'll let you know," he laughed.

* * *

The next several days went by much the same way the first five had gone. Draco acted completely out of character, but as time went on, he found he minded less and less. For the first time in his life, he felt truly cared for. Hermione had no ulterior motives. She was open and free with him in a way nobody else ever had been; he couldn't recall having ever seen _her_ be that way with anyone else either. Somehow that thought made his odd behavior worth it.

Slowly but surely, the date of the Easter Ball approached. Draco was excited to go with Hermione, but at the same time, his excitement was tamped down by the knowledge that he'd walked into this relationship on a bet. But after what had happened between them on Sunday, he knew there was no way he could tell her _and_ keep her. If she found out, that would be the end of pretty much the only happiness he'd ever known. He couldn't bear even the thought of that.

So he kept his mouth shut, even though the guilt was creeping up on him.

On the eve of the Easter Ball, he carefully dressed in his freshly-pressed dress robes and spelled his hair into compliance. He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked devastatingly handsome, he thought. At exactly six o'clock, he knocked on Hermione's bedroom door.

If he had thought she looked stunning on Sunday afternoon, then he thought she was an angel in that moment. She was dressed in dark blue gown trimmed in silver thread. When she moved, it looked like the dress was made of starlight. Her hair was carefully styled in a manner befitting a bride on her wedding day. To top off the theme of the night sky, she wore diamond earrings and a necklace cut in the shape of a nine-point star.

"Wow," Draco breathed. "You look . . . like magic personified."

Hermione blushed prettily. "Thank you. You look rather dashing yourself."

He smirked. "You sure you want to go to the ball?" he asked with a suggestive wink. "I can think of a few things I'd rather do with you in that dress."

Her face went from slightly pink to bright red. "Draco!" she exclaimed. "Be good!"

"Maybe later, then," he chuckled.

He offered his arm and she took it, and they set off for the Great Hall. When they arrived, Hermione excused herself to go greet her friends. Draco leaned against the wall and admired her from afar. He was interrupted in his musings when Blaise sauntered up to him with Pansy in tow.

"So, does she love you?" Blaise asked haughtily. "I certainly hope not."

Draco sneered at his best friend. "You would. And I don't know. I haven't asked."

"Only time will tell," Blaise replied.

"I'm going to go find out," Pansy announced before stalking away.

"No, Pans, wait!" Draco called out after her, but she was already halfway to Hermione. He gulped nervously and turned to Blaise.

"What's the matter?" Blaise asked. "Afraid you'll lose?"

"Something like that," Draco murmured.

The two remained silent after that, waiting for Pansy to return with the verdict. Draco knew he'd never been so nervous for anything in his life, but it had absolutely nothing to do with the drunken bet he'd made with Blaise.

* * *

Hermione started when Pansy Parkinson tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to Draco's ex warily. "Yes?"

Pansy lifted her nose into the air. "It's not worth it, you know."

"What's not?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"Being in love with Draco," Pansy explained. "He'll just break your heart in the end."

"Oh, I'm not—" Hermione started. "I don't . . . _love_ him. We've only been dating for ten days. You can't fall in love that fast."

Pansy raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Oh please. It's all over your face. You've fallen for him. Hard."

Hermione shook her head. "No. You're mistaken."

"Hmm." With that, Pansy spun on her heel and marched away.

Hermione watched her go apprehensively. _Had_ she fallen in love with him when she was supposed to be making him fall for her? She flashed back to her conversation with Ginny on Sunday evening. She had to acknowledge that she felt _something_ for Draco; she'd slept with him for Godric's sake! Her mind raced as she replayed the memory.

After they'd fallen into the bathtub together, Draco had paid her careful attention and looked at her with something akin to adoration in his eyes. He had kissed her passionately, ardently. They had gone slowly, carefully. She rubbed her arms as a wave of chills overcame her at the recollection.

Her eyes popped open wide as the realization hit her. It hadn't just been sex, had it?

They had made love.

She loved him.

Hermione allowed herself a moment of shock before she made up her mind. She would summon her courage—she was a Gryffindor, after all—and she'd tell him. She took the first few steps in Draco's direction when Blaise Zabini intercepted her. He pulled her by the wrist into an alcove, glaring at her the whole time.

"Zabini, what the hell?" Hermione snapped at him.

He leaned in close, sneering at her. "How did you know about the bet?" he demanded. "Did Pansy tell you? I should have known Pansy was lying to me about wanting to humiliate Draco."

Hermione's heart stopped. Bet? What bet? Even though she could feel her heart breaking, she schooled her features into a mask of indifference. "I don't know what you're on about Zabini. There's no bet."

Blaise scoffed. "You really love the bastard, don't you?"

She gulped and nodded. It was true, after all, even though it appeared that Draco had simply fooled her into it. "I do love him."

Blaise scowled at her, then stalked away with a disgusted snort.

Hermione allowed herself sixty seconds to cry over her situation. She had never dreamed she'd fall in love with Draco Malfoy. Even so, she should have known better. He had used her for a stupid bet with his Slytherin cronies. He'd been faking the entire time. Her heart shattered, as she'd known it would from the beginning. When her minute of tears was over, she cast a spell to fix her makeup and marched from the nook where she was hidden. She was _definitely_ going to go through with humiliating Draco now.

* * *

Draco watched with his heart in his throat as Pansy returned. Did Hermione love him? Merlin, he hoped so. He'd certainly fallen hard for her. His ex-girlfriend took an obnoxiously long time to reach him where he waited with Blaise. Then she stood there smirking at him for several long moments.

"Pansy!" he finally exploded. "Just tell us!"

She smiled evilly, then said, "Yes, she loves you. Congratulations, Draco." Pansy turned her evil glare on Blaise. "Have fun sleeping outside until June."

Blaise scoffed loudly and stomped away. Draco couldn't have cared less. He grinned triumphantly.

Hermione loved him.

He'd never heard such good news in his life. With a determined swagger, he began walking toward where he'd last seen Hermione. He was going to snog her thoroughly then take her into the Great Hall for a spectacular night of dancing. If he was lucky, when they got back to the Heads' dorms, he'd get, well, _lucky_.

He was passing Potty and Weasel on his way over when he happened to overhear what they were saying.

". . . can't wait to see the ferret's face when she does it," whispered Weasley.

"Me too," Potter said.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks. When who did _what?_

"This is the best idea we've ever had," Weasley continued. "I'm glad Hermione agreed to do it. Malfoy's needed to be taken down a notch for ages."

"I have to admit, I was worried Hermione would lose her nerve before she could dump Malfoy on his sorry arse in front of everyone," Potter agreed. "He bloody deserves it."

"I wish someone could write an article or something. How to Lose a Malfoy in Ten Days," Weasley joked.

Potter chuckled at the lame-ass joke.

Anger flared in Draco's chest. Hermione had been _faking?!_ It seemed she was planning on humiliating him, that she'd been involved in a bet of her own. He scowled fiercely. So much for his plans. Well, Blaise didn't need to know that Hermione had been faking. Technically, Draco had won the bet. And now that it was over, he was going to rip Hermione a new one for using him. That bitch.

He spotted her near the middle of the entrance hall, an angry sneer on her own face. He stomped over to her.

"How could you?" he demanded.

Hermione's eyes popped wide. "How could _I?_ How could _you?_ " she screeched. "You _used_ me, you arrogant prat!"

People were beginning to stare at them, but Draco no longer cared. "You drove me insane just to entertain your friends!" he accused.

"Yeah? Well you told your friends you could make any girl fall in love with you, and I was exhibit A," Hermione snapped. A lone tear slid down her cheek.

"Then what does that make me?" Draco demanded. "Your guinea pig?"

"Yeah, and I was just a girl your friends picked out in the Great Hall."

Draco scoffed at her. "Whatever. At least you did your fucking job, Granger. Go run and tell your stupid friends. I'm sure they'll be delighted."

"Maybe we should bet on it," Hermione growled.

"Well, you did want to get rid of me in ten days. Congratulations, Granger. You just lost me." Draco spun on his heel to storm off, but Hermione's next words stopped him in his tracks.

"No I didn't, Malfoy. Because you can't lose something you never had."

He felt her brush past him and run in the direction of the Heads' dorms. People all around were staring at him, and he felt his hackles rise.

"What?" he snapped at them all. "Did you all enjoy the show?"

He sneered disgustedly and stormed out of the castle. Great. This was just great.

Draco hated his life.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

* * *

Hermione spent the next week hiding in Gryffindor tower whenever she wasn't in class. She was more often than not curled up on Ginny's bed and crying whenever she had the chance. She couldn't bear the thought of returning to the Heads' dorms. Seeing Draco was more than she was willing to take on, especially after what he'd done. More than anything, she felt like a fool for letting herself believe he had changed. Nobody could go through that big of a change in so short a time, yet she'd stupidly hoped that Draco would be the exception.

He wasn't, of course.

Whenever she was in a class she shared with Draco, she did her best to ignore him. To his credit, he was doing a damn good job at pretending she didn't exist. Outside of classes, they didn't even communicate with each other about Head responsibilities or prefect duties. In fact, Hermione was too depressed to even bother thinking about those things. She could barely pay attention in class.

The whole situation was almost worse than when Draco had taken every opportunity to insult her.

And so she found herself in the fetal position on Ginny's bed at the end of the day on Friday. Ginny sat beside her, tapping her foot against the floor impatiently. She huffed out a sigh.

"'Mione, what can I do?" Ginny asked.

Hermione choked on a sob as she whispered, "Nothing."

Ginny tsked at her. "All right, that's enough!" she snapped. "I have let you sit around my room for the last week so that you could grieve this whole awful situation. But you've got to pick yourself back up, Hermione. Don't give Malfoy the power to ruin your life."

Hermione sat up rather suddenly and angrily wiped the tears from her face. "Oh, what do you know about lost love anyway?" she said bitterly. "You've loved Harry since before you even _met_ him! And you _got_ him! You can't possibly know what I'm going through!"

"Is that right?" Ginny asked with a sneer. "Harry's not the first boy I've dated, and you _know_ that! Merlin, Hermione, it was your idea for me to date other people in the first place!"

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed heavily. "You're right; I'm sorry. I just don't understand how I could have been so wrong about him."

Ginny shrugged. "Well, I mean, I was absurdly wrong about Dean."

This forced a chuckle from Hermione. "I'm not sure how you missed it. It was painfully obvious to anyone paying enough attention that he and Seamus had a thing for each other."

"I was his bloody beard!" Ginny laughed.

"Well, at least they're together and happy now," Hermione reasoned.

"True."

Now that she had been pulled out of her melancholy state just a bit, Hermione had to admit that she felt more lighthearted than she had since last Sunday night. She took a deep breath and released it slowly, then straightened her shoulders resolutely.

"Gin, I can't stay in the Heads' dorms anymore. I'm going to talk to Professor McGonagall about moving back into Gryffindor tower."

"That sounds like a great first step," Ginny said, nodding. "If you want, I can go pack your things."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'll move everything over here tomorrow. Right now I just want to talk with Professor McGonagall, then spend the evening with my friends."

Ginny smiled. "Okay. I'll go find the boys. Harry got a new deck of Exploding Snap cards. They're supposedly merged with Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, where the gross flavors are the cards that explode or something . . . it'll be great fun."

Hermione smiled. "Okay. I'll meet you guys by the lake, then?"

Ginny nodded. "Sounds great."

Hermione turned and left Ginny's dorm. As she left, she didn't see Ginny pull out a piece of parchment, scribble a note, then send it off with Parvati's owl.

* * *

Draco hated himself.

As soon as he realized that Hermione wasn't returning to their shared dormitory—and was resolutely ignoring him, too—he figured he owed her space. He gave it to her, certain that she'd never want to speak to him again. He'd seriously screwed up, and there was no way he'd ever get her to forgive him. He also supposed it was karma coming back to repay him for all of the horrible things he'd ever said and done to Hermione.

He was once again contemplating his situation for the umpteenth time, slumped at a table in the library on Friday after classes were over. He lamented his poor choices and he hated that he'd hurt Hermione so deeply. Mostly, he missed her.

At the same time, he couldn't forget how she'd used him. He felt wretched about deceiving her, true, but he was furious that she'd played him the whole time. Had she slept with him to ensure that he'd be completely hooked? If so, it had worked. He knew he would never be the same Draco Lucius Malfoy he had been before the bet.

He was startled out of his depressed musings when two people sat down across the table from him. Blaise and . . . the She-Weasel? He raised an eyebrow at them imperiously.

"Miss Weasley here has given me some interesting news, Draco," Blaise said.

"I really don't care, Zabini," Draco scoffed. "And I really don't want to speak to you right now."

Blaise waved a hand dismissively. "And I really don't care what you want. You're going to answer some questions for me, and then you're going to hear Ginny out. It's important."

Draco rolled his eyes but motioned for his interrogation to begin.

"At what point did the bet cease to be your motivation?" Blaise inquired.

Draco's eyebrows shot to his hairline. " _What?"_ he yelped.

"You heard me. You've got feelings for Granger, and I want to know when that happened." Blaise stared at him patiently, obviously willing to wait for as long as it took to get his answer.

"I guess it was that first Sunday," Draco admitted reluctantly.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "What happened to change things that day?"

Draco simply folded his arms and looked away.

"I don't know what changed _emotionally_ for him," Ginny inserted, "but I do know that they had sex."

Blaise's mouth dropped open. " _What?!"_

"You were her first, you know," Ginny told Draco quietly.

Guilt settled in Draco's chest, feeling heavier than before. He nodded. He knew he'd been her first, and as far as he was concerned, she'd been his.

"Merlin, Draco. I was right," Blaise said slowly.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his best friend. "What are you talking about?"

Blaise shook his head in disbelief. "I've suspected you'd had feelings for Granger for years, but I didn't really want to believe it." He stared at his friend in shock, then whispered in awe, " _I was right._ "

"So what?" Draco snapped. He was tired of this conversation already. "Even if I did have feelings for her before—which I'm not saying I did—what does it matter? She was playing me the whole time anyway!"

"And this is where Ginny comes in," Blaise said.

Ginny cleared her throat. "She wasn't going to go through with it."

"Wasn't going to go through with what?" Draco sneered.

"Last Sunday, when she got back to the castle, Hermione and I talked for a really long time about what happened. She told me she wanted to stay with you, and she was going to tell Harry and Ron at the Easter ball that they were just going to have to deal with the two of you being in a relationship."

Draco was floored, but hid his surprise from his companions. Hermione cared about him? He mentally shook his head. It still didn't make a difference. She might have been willing to consider a real relationship with him, but that was before she found out about the bet. He pushed himself to his feet with his classic sneer and slung his bag over his shoulder.

"That doesn't change anything," he snapped.

Ginny glared back at him. "At least think about this, will you? I've never seen Hermione so depressed. She may not admit it right now, but she _needs_ you."

Draco scoffed and stalked out of the library. He couldn't afford to get his hopes up. It wouldn't do him any good. What he really needed, he decided, was to talk to his mother about this. She always knew exactly how to handle situations such as this one. He hurried of to Professor McGonagall's office to ask if he could use her fireplace. The hallways were deserted, and he made it to the headmistress's office with no delay. She quickly agreed to his request, and within minutes, he was getting out of the fireplace at Malfoy Manor.

He found his mother in the sunroom where they had dined with Hermione last Sunday. She was resting on a chaise lounge with a blanket draped over her lap. Draco sat beside her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

Narcissa opened her eyes and looked at him. "Hello, Draco. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Draco took a deep breath. "I need some advice."

She nodded. "Start at the beginning."

He gulped and told her everything, starting with the bet he'd made with Blaise, about everything that happened over the course of the ten days he'd dated Hermione—including having sex with her—and finishing with their dramatic blowout at the Easter ball. It was cathartic, being able to freely express the things he'd been feeling without fear of judgment. He knew his mother wouldn't be greatly pleased with the fact that he'd slept with Hermione, but she didn't say anything about it. When Draco was finished with his story, he felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Narcissa stayed quiet for a long time. When she finally did speak, it was to simply say, "What are you doing here, then? You need to tell Hermione how you feel."

Draco opened his mouth to argue.

"Don't you dare fight me on this, Draco Malfoy!" Narcissa interrupted. "Hermione has offered to help me figure out how to fix my health. If she rescinds her offer because of you, your inheritance will all go to charity."

"But Mother," Draco complained, "it's not like I'm the only one at fault in this mess! Hermione was using me just as much as I was using her in the beginning. I just don't see us resolving things so easily."

"So _apologize_ ," Narcissa said slowly, as if he were dim-witted. "Tell her what you told me. You'll never find out if she will forgive you if you don't _try_."

He sighed. "Okay. I'll think about it."

Draco returned to Hogwarts feeling almost more confused than when he'd left. He slowly walked back to his dorm and locked himself in his room. He fell into a restless sleep, dreaming repeatedly that he apologized to Hermione with various outcomes.

He was abruptly awakened by the dulcet sounds of thunks and bangs from the common room. He bolted upright in bed, his heart giving a painful lurch. Hermione?

Draco clambered out of bed and practically sprinted down to the common room. His heart dropped into his stomach when he recognized the long mane of red hair. The She-Weasel was the one making such a racket, and Hermione was nowhere in sight.

"Weasley? What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Ginny turned to face him, a sad and resigned took in her eyes. "I'm picking up Hermione's things."

"What? Why?"

"She's moving back into Gryffindor tower."

He was out of time.

"Wait. Please don't take any of her stuff yet. I have to talk to her. Where is she?" Draco nearly begged.

At this, Ginny smiled a tiny bit. "Where else? In the library, of course."

Draco nodded and dashed out of the common room without so much as a 'thank you.' He ran up the stairs two at a time, and arrived at the library in record time. He took a few deep breaths, then waved his wand so that his rumpled clothes straightened out and his hair looked more presentable. Then he pushed open the doors and went to find Hermione. She was at her usual table, engrossed in a book.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Draco asked as he sat beside her.

She jerked in surprise and turned to look at him. "I'm . . . reading?"

He shook his head. "No, I mean what are you doing moving out of our dormitory."

"I don't have a choice," Hermione said sadly. "I can't live in the same space as you anymore. It's too painful."

Draco took her hands in his. "I love you, Hermione," he said bluntly. "I think I always have. And I'm sorry—more sorry than you'll ever know—about the bet I made with Blaise. It was wrong, and I shouldn't have done it. But please, _please_ don't leave."

Tears filled her eyes. "How am I supposed to believe you?"

"Ask me anything. I'll take Veritaserum . . . put me under the Imperius Curse!"

"Draco, that's absurd," Hermione said with a watery chuckle. After a lengthy pause, she said, "I wasn't going to do it, you know. I was going to tell Harry and Ron that—"

"I know," Draco interrupted. "Ginny told me."

Hermione smiled wryly. "I should've known. Ginny never was one to mind her own business."

Draco chuckled and nodded. "Please, come home."

"I accept your apology," Hermione finally said. "And I'm sorry too."

"If we're being honest, I did deserve what you had planned," he admitted. "But I also have to say that I never would have admitted to myself that I've had feelings for you for ages if Blaise hadn't made the bet with me. I kind of owe him one."

Hermione laughed outright. "Is that right?"

He nodded again. "I do love you, you know," he reiterated.

"Can we start over?" she asked softly.

"I'd like that."

"Me too."

With that, Draco pulled her into a deep kiss full of longing. She kissed him back eagerly. In that moment, he knew he would never let her go again. He would do everything he could to keep her happy for as long as she'd have him. And he was relieved beyond words that she loved him in return. He didn't need to hear her say it; it was obvious in the way she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. Whatever problems came their way, Draco knew he'd be able to face them if Hermione was by his side.

~‡°•.•°‡~

The End

~‡°•.•°‡~


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